Realisation
by TrailingJasmine
Summary: What would you do if you had to work with the boy you were determined not to like? A drabble about LilyJames, just before the start of their seventh year.


The letter arrives a week before the start of term.

A rectangle of yellowed parchment and green ink, it falls heavily onto the hall mat, and makes its way to the breakfast table a few minutes later in the hand of Lily's mother. "Letter from school for you, darling," Mrs Evans says absentmindedly, putting it down beside her daughter's crumb-strewn plate.

"It'll be my book list," Lily sighs happily through a mouthful of toast. She's been waiting for this letter for days, desperate to start on her reading for the year ahead: the final year, NEWT year. She picks up the letter, sliding her finger under the waxy seal to break it, and pulls out the parchment inside.

Something else falls out: something small, shiny, something which hits the slate of the kitchen floor with a metallic ring. A red shield, with tiny golden lettering across it. Lily knows this badge; knows what it means.

Lily can remember the day she was made a prefect two years earlier, and the fuss her parents had made of her. She had wondered if, with the exception of exam results, anything would ever top it whilst she was still at school. As she stares down at the badge on the floor, she reckons that day has come.

"Mum..." she says, bending down and picking up the badge. "Mum... I'm Head Girl."

Lily looks at her mother, at her face, at the surprise, the incredulity, and then the pride which crosses her features, so similar to Lily's. "Oh, darling!" Mrs Evans exclaims, sweeping her daughter into a hug. "Oh, I'm so proud of you! First a prefect, now Head Girl; and all those perfect exam results... I wish your father was here to see this!" She looks up at the kitchen clock. "He'll be at work now, give him a ring; I'm sure he'll want to know."

Lily turns, a smile on her face, to go to the hall phone to tell her father the news. But standing in the kitchen doorway is her older sister, Petunia, with an even bigger smile on her face.

"Mother?" she says lightly, and Lily suddenly has an awful feeling her thunder is about to be stolen. "I've got some news, too. Vernon and I... we're engaged!"

Lily thinks the silence in the kitchen is deafening, despite her mother's shrieks. And she knows that the smile on Petunia's face is one of victory. Her hand is closed so tightly that the Head Girl's badge is digging into her palm, and without a word, she turns and walks upstairs to her room.

* * *

When the owl arrives half an hour later, Lily is lying on her back, staring at the ceiling. The silence around her is still deafening, and for a moment, she doesn't know what to do and just looks at the owl perched on her dressing table. Then she rouses herself, and takes the letter from its beak. The owl hoots once, mournfully, and leaves. For the second time that day, Lily breaks the seal on a letter, and reads it. 

_Dear Miss Evans,_

_May I be the first to congratulate you on your appointment as Head Girl. Whilst there were many candidates, your reputation for hard work, honesty and competence stood you far above the rest. _

Lily allows herself to smile. _Hard work_. _Honesty_. _Competence_. Those are the qualities she defines herself by, and wonders how it is that Albus Dumbledore managed to put his finger on them quite so precisely.

_With only a week left until term begins, I would very much like it if you could join me for tea this afternoon in order to discuss your role as Head Girl and to meet our new Head Boy, who will be your partner in organising the responsibilities and roles of the school's prefects._

It is as if the sun has been blacked out. Lily sinks back onto her pillow with a frown. She has completely forgotten about the existence of a Head Boy. She scowls; sharing, particularly sharing responsibility, has never been her strong point. That was why her prefect partnership with Remus Lupin had worked so well: she did everything, and he merely nodded in assent.

She knows she will come to blows with whoever is Head Boy. Lily knows that she will stamp and shout and scream at him if he tries to do things any way she doesn't like. She also knows that it could mean the end of friendships she has with many people.

Lily has good qualities. She has the qualities Dumbledore has listed in his letter in spades, but she knows she cannot keep her temper. Even after six years at Hogwarts, there were still occasions where she failed to remain calm in the face of provocation. Had she not stormed out of her mother's kitchen less than an hour earlier?

Still angry, more with herself than with Dumbledore for reminding her of the presence of the Head Boy, she reads the rest of the letter.

_I look forward to seeing you at four o'clock this afternoon, in my office. I do enjoy strawberry bonbons._

_Albus Dumbledore_

* * *

_Crack_. 

Lily hates apparating. She knows that hating it is the most ridiculous thing in the world, because she's good at it. After all, she was the first in the year to pass her apparition test. But she still loathes the feeling of it, still wonders if she's left a chunk of hair or a fingernail behind her.

She stands in front of the gates at Hogwarts, and breathes in deeply. The castle is bathed in sunlight; the grounds strangely deserted. Then she remembers: it's August; and there's still a week until term starts. No wonder there's nobody here. And determinedly, she opens the gate and walks up the path to the castle.

The halls feel even stranger without students coursing through the corridors. In her own purple corduroy flares and white blouse rather than school uniform, Lily feels out of place, an intruder. As she walks through the cool darkness of the building, she listens to the sound of her sandals echoing on the stone floor. Lily likes the sound; wishes she could hear it more, and is almost sad when she reaches the entrance to Dumbledore's office.

At the top of the stairs, she pauses. She can hear voices inside Dumbledore's office. Lily checks her watch; she hates being late more than anything else, except perhaps losing her temper. But no, she is perfectly on time. And after making sure her clothes are straight, she knocks purposefully on the door.

Lily has been inside Dumbledore's office once before, when she became a prefect, and all the new prefects in her year went to have their photograph taken with the headmaster. She wonders where the photograph has gone. How different she must have looked then!

Lily knows she has grown up in the last two years. Gone are the two plaits she braided her hair into every day without fail; gone are the glasses she wore until the age of sixteen to correct a minor squint; and gone are the metal braces on her teeth. Lily was a girl then; and now, she feels like a woman.

But Dumbledore's office hasn't changed. The phoenix is still there; the tiny instruments humming and whirring; the dozens of portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses lining the study walls. And there is Albus Dumbledore himself, rising to welcome her; a huge tea spread on the table beside him.

And it is then that Lily gets her biggest surprise, for on the other side of the table, looking equally shocked to see her, is James Potter.

"Ah, Miss Evans," Dumbledore smiles. "Your timing is impeccable, as always. May I once again offer you my congratulations; and introduce you to our new Head Boy. I am sure you know each other well enough by now."

James is getting to his feet, and Lily wishes he wouldn't. He's grown again over the summer, and if he was taller than her before, he now towers above her. He's speaking, saying something. "Congratulations, Lily," he says, and she can hear the warmth and sincerity in his voice. "I knew you'd be Head Girl." He's holding out his hand, and tentatively she takes it. She thinks back to two years ago, how she would never have even shaken his hand, let alone be in the same room as him for more than ten seconds. How things had changed.

"Congratulations," she says, a lump in her throat. She smiles weakly, and winces as James hastily pulls out one of the armchairs for her. She hates it when he's chivalrous, because she doesn't want him to act as anything more than a partner. The friendship they'd built over their sixth year at Hogwarts had begun with great reluctance on her part, and even now, she is still hesitant.

Lily thinks she knows what it is that holds her back from being anything more than civil to him. She thinks of all those years of teasing and bullying and arrogance that imprinted themselves on her. James Potter wound her up and made her lose her temper; he drove her crazy, and seemed to do so without even the slightest bit of regret. And then suddenly he wanted to be friends at the start of their sixth year. Yes, she tells herself, this is why she can never be more than civil to James Potter.

"Miss Evans?" Lily looks up, realising she's been off in a daydream.

"I'm sorry, Professor?" she says, and she can see Albus Dumbledore's eyes twinkling at her.

"I will repeat myself then," Dumbledore said firmly, and Lily sees James smile. Instantly the old anger flares up inside her; and she is determined to not lose concentration again.

"Over the next few days you will need to prepare rotas for prefect duties," Dumbledore said. "We need to have two prefects on study duty in the Great Hall each weekday evening. Each house must have a prefect from that respective house on duty each evening in their common room. The Head Boy and Head Girl must take it in turns to perform library duties each evening except Sunday between half past eight and the library closing at nine. All prefects must also be on duty during Quidditch matches. Yes, Mr Potter?"

"What if the prefects are involved in the match?" James asks. "I play for Gryffindor; I know that Marlene McKinnon plays for Ravenclaw and is a seventh year prefect..." Lily feels irritated. Doesn't he know that there are many things - not just a few, but many - more important than Quidditch?

"You will be excused duty," Dumbledore says lightly. "I am sure that Miss Evans will be more than capable of managing by herself." Lily feels a warm flush of pride, which is instantly dampened by seeing James nodding. Why is he nodding? He didn't think she was capable! Lily didn't want to think he thought she was capable!

She doesn't stop to ask herself why she thinks these things. As the tea goes on, with Dumbledore outlining more privileges and duties, she feels despair setting in. James Potter seems set on not only being civil, but being downright pleasant to her. It makes her want to scream.

* * *

The torture of tea in Dumbledore's study comes to an end at five o'clock, and Lily immediately bolts for the grounds. Her mind is spinning. She doesn't want to go home; but she cannot stay in the castle. She needs to think about everything; she needs to calm down, too. In the past, Lily has done magic without intending to when she lost her temper; and she suspects that if she went home immediately, Petunia would be on the receiving end. 

As she walks down the steps, she hears James behind her. "Lily?" he says, and she turns round. He's standing there, taller than ever, his Nimbus 1000 in one hand. "I just wanted to repeat what I said earlier. You're going to be a brilliant Head Girl."

"Thanks," Lily says, a strange feeling inside her. She covers it up with annoyance as she strides away from him towards the lake. But James is still there behind her.

"Would you like a lift home?" he says, and Lily turns back to him.

"On that?" she says, frowning at the broomstick.

"Yes," James says earnestly. "It takes two quite easily, and I know you don't like apparating. It's quite nippy, too; it only took me a couple of hours on the way."

"Thanks, but no," Lily smiles thinly, wondering why on earth he won't just take the hint and leave her alone.

"Lily?" James says again, tentatively, and she spins around.

"What?" she snaps, finally breaking the veneer of civility. And to her even greater annoyance, James doesn't look pleased that she's finally lost her temper; but hurt.

"We need to meet up before term starts to arrange the duties list," he says dully. "I was thinking we could meet in Diagon Alley or something, do it over ice cream at Fortescue's. I need to get my books for next year, and other things."

"Oh," Lily says in a small voice, horror rising inside her. _Being seen in public with James Potter_... _what rumours that would start!_ "Right. That sounds good, but..."

"Tomorrow afternoon? Half two at Fortescue's?" James says, all trace of warmth gone from his voice.

"Perhaps you could come to my house instead," Lily says quickly. "You know - there won't be any distractions. And my mother makes amazing lemonade." Lily rattles on without thinking. "If we're in Diagon Alley, there'll be all sorts of people wanting to talk to us..."

James is frowning. Lily hopes that her response was logical enough for him not to detect the truth. "Alright. That sounds better. You're right. Sirius and Remus and Peter will just distract us." Lily suddenly wants to cry. This wasn't how she wanted things to be. She didn't want to argue with him, say that his friends were distractions. "Right. Where do you live?" He's brisk, now, and all business.

"Just outside London," she says. "28 Maple Drive, Virginia Water." She watches as he mounts the broom.

"28 Maple Drive, Virginia Water, half past two tomorrow. Are you sure you don't want a lift?" he says again, looking towards her. His face is unreadable.

For a moment, Lily's mouth starts to form a _yes_. But then she shakes herself. _No_.

"Thanks, but I've got to get home. Mum needs help with dinner," Lily says. James nods, and kicks off from the ground. Lily watches him go for a moment, and then walks down towards the gates, wondering why she's crying.

* * *

Lily doesn't help her mother when she gets home, because her mother isn't there. On the kitchen table is a ready-made cottage pie, enough for Lily, and beside it is a scrap of paper. _At the Dursley's for supper_, it says, along with instructions for reheating the pie. Lily sits down on one of the chairs, her aching head in her hands. 

She wishes more than ever that she had taken James up on the offer of a lift. Lily will never tell anybody, but she secretly loves flying. She knows she is no good at it, but she loves it just the same. And perhaps she could have made things up to James; apologised for being rude. She wants to get off on the right foot with this Head Girl business.

Lily goes up to her bedroom, and sits down at her desk. Her head is still spinning and aching; and she wishes she had an owl so she could write to somebody. She fiddles around with her quill, and starts to write on a piece of scrap parchment. _Dear Potter_... No. She puts a line through it. _Dear James_... better. _Dear James_... _I would like to say sorry for losing my temper earlier on_... No. She hadn't lost her temper, not really. And he'd provoked her... hadn't he? _I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier on, but you did provoke me_...

_He didn't provoke you_, a voice says inside her head. _You wanted to be provoked. He was nothing but friendly to you. You lost your temper because you wanted him to needle you, wanted everything he said to be provocative_...

She screws up the parchment and throws it in the bin, annoyed. "Why does he have to be Head Boy?" she says to herself. "Why on earth does _he_ have to be Head Boy?"

Lily wakes up later than she intended to the next day. There is a nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach; for a moment she can't remember why it's there, but then it all floods back to her. He's coming here today. James Potter is coming here in... _three hours_? How on earth had she slept in until half past eleven? Sunlight streams through her window.

"I've got a friend coming over this afternoon, at half past two," Lily says to her mother as she passes her on the stairs.

"A school friend?" Mrs Evans says in surprise, and Lily nods. "Is it that nice boy Remus?"

"No," Lily says, "unfortunately. It's the new Head Boy, James Potter." She likes making misery of a situation.

"James Potter... the one who's always been so rude to you?"

"The same," Lily says. "Can't think how he got to be Head Boy. Is there any lemonade?"

"I'll make a fresh batch up straight after lunch," her mother promises. "Oh, and there's a fruit cake in the tin in the top cupboard. It's had a couple of slices taken out of it, but it should be just about presentable."

After lunch, Lily feels like everything is a race to get ready before the arrival of James Potter. She can't decide what to wear. None of her t-shirts and blouses and skirts and jeans seem to go together any more. Eventually she just chooses a simple white blouse and some plain blue jeans. _Classic_, she thinks. _Elegant_.

Lily brushes her hair, and ponders whether to put it up or down. Down. It's the holidays, after all, and it's only James Potter and discussing prefect rotas. Only James Potter... Lily suddenly feels light headed, and sits down on her bed. _Only James Potter_...

It's already two fifteen. Lily glances out of the window, and groans. Huge black clouds fill the sky. So much for sitting out in the garden; it looks like it'll have to be the dining room table.

* * *

As if on cue, at half past two, the heavens open and the doorbell rings. Lily has been in the sitting room for the last ten minutes, sitting bolt upright, thinking about what she's going to say, how she's going to behave. She gets up, slowly, calmly, and goes to the door. There is James Potter, slouching a little in the rain. 

"Come in," Lily says, trying to smile. "How did you get here?"

"Flew," James said shortly. "My broom's hidden under a hedge about five minutes away."

They stand in the hallway together, the front door open, looking out at the rain. "I don't think we're going to be able to sit in the garden," Lily says lightly. "Perhaps if we work at the dining room table?" James nods, and after closing the front door, Lily leads the way. She has already laid out some parchment, quills and ink. "I'll just go and get some lemonade and cake," she says hastily, and leaves James standing in the dining room.

When she returns, he's looking at the family photos on the mantelpiece above the fire. "Is that you?" he asks, pointing at the photo of a five year old Lily with her older sister. Lily nods.

"That's my sister Petunia next to me," she says, "with the dark hair. It's not dark now, though, she dyes it."

"I wish I had a brother or sister," James says wistfully, and Lily frowns.

"No, you don't. They're nothing but annoying." She's done it before she realises it; started to pick an argument. Hastily she asks if he would like a drink.

They sit together at the dining room table, Lily at the head, James on the next chair down at the side, trying to work out a fair rota. Some things seem to be continually getting in the way - Quidditch practice, for one - which means that Lily will _have_ to do library duty on Friday night. "I'll have to do it on Saturdays," James says calmly, "it's only fair."

"But Friday night is the chess club," Lily says, "and the meetings finish at nine."

"You still play chess?" James asks sceptically.

Lily bristles. "Of course," she says. "I can't believe you still play Quidditch."

"Oh, come on!" James says. "You'll only miss half an hour of it."

"That's a third of the meeting!" Lily exclaims. She doesn't really enjoy chess, but it's the principle. If James got to go to his Quidditch practices, she should be allowed to go to the chess club.

"OK, fine. We do alternate weeks, Fridays and Saturdays. One week I'll miss the last half hour of Quidditch, the next week you miss the last half hour of chess. OK?"

"Alright," Lily says sulkily, and writes it down on the parchment.

"Look," James says. "I know you're having to make sacrifices. I am as well. But it's worth it, isn't it? To be Head Girl?" Lily glares at him.

"Of course it's worth it," she snaps. "I just wish..." She trails off. She can't tell him she wishes he wasn't Head Boy, can she?

"Just wish what?" James asks, and Lily frowns. "That it wasn't with me?" James says, and in her surprise, Lily nods. "Oh, I knew that already," James grins. "Look, Evans. I know I'm a pain in the neck sometimes, and an arrogant swine on occasion..."

"More than sometimes," Lily interrupts. James raises an eyebrow, but continues.

"More than sometimes, then," he shrugs. "But we can get along, can't we? I don't mind you shouting at me every now and again; I've coped with it for the last six years." He smiles suddenly. "And there was much less shouting last year, I noticed. But when you're not giving me hell, I'd quite like to just get along, you know? I don't like it when you're moody with me for weeks at a time."

"I'm not moody..."

"Yes, you are," James said firmly. "In fact, a lot of the time, you're a nightmare."

Lily sits there listening to him, amazed. She never thought she'd be hearing this from James Potter, never thought he'd actually tell her what he thought of her. She hates hearing it, but at the same time...

"I'm not a nightmare," she says firmly, but James is already nodding his head.

"Oh, you are. You and your temper, and your need for everything to be just so, and your stubbornness..."

"I'm not stubborn," Lily whispers, and she sees James smiling. "I'm not stubborn!" she exclaims, tears rising behind her eyes.

"My point is proven," James grins, and in her misery, Lily gets to her feet, desperate to leave. But James rises, catches her as she tries to flee. He's holding her wrists with his hands, and even though she's trying to hit him, arms flailing, he won't let go.

"Let me go!" she exclaims. "Let me go!"

"Oh, Evans," James says softly. "You're even more beautiful when you're angry, you know that?"

And Lily Evans can't quite believe what he's doing, but James Potter is kissing her gently on the lips. She realises her arms have gone limp in his hands; and that James has let go of them and is now pulling her closer towards him. This kiss... this kiss that feels like release, this kiss slowly pulling down walls in her mind, this kiss destroying the dams holding back all those emotions she has kept under lock and key for so many years...

"James?" she whispers as they part, and she lays her head on his chest, listening to his heart beating.

"Yes?" he says softly, and she can hear the word reverberating in his lungs.

"I'm sorry," she says again, and the tears start to flow again.

"Here," James says quietly. "Let me make it better."

* * *

_the end_


End file.
